


When We Tried Not To Slip

by betweenthebliss



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, F/M, Fall Fandom Free For All, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season 2, under 1000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 22:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweenthebliss/pseuds/betweenthebliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two people, one loss; on the outside they couldn't be more different, but on the inside they're both trying to fill the same hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Tried Not To Slip

**Author's Note:**

> written for the fall fandom free for all. title and cut text from 'freshmen' by the verve pipe (cus come on, find me a more appropriate song....)

If you asked her, she'd have said she was doing fine. She was, really, she insisted to everyone who asked, and most people actually would've said she was telling the truth. She worked, she hung out with her friends, September came and she started college, she made new friends and did her homework. She didn't say she missed him, and she didn't say she didn't; in fact, she never talked about him at all.

.

He never mentioned his brother. He didn't make a habit of talking about much of anything to begin with, and this was no different. He spent his days in a haze of Grey Goose and oxycontin, and by the time night came around he was usually too out of it to notice what he'd missed during the day, or what he'd actually done. If you asked him, he was doing just fine.

.

She woke at three am again, hair clinging to her sweat-damp forehead, eyes wide and wild in the dark. She groped around for her hoodie, wishing for a light, not wanting to wake her roommate. Close to gasping, drowning in panic, she made her way to the door and slipped out. Her skin crawled as she remembered the dream; her boyfriend's eyes, his smile turned cruel as he bent over her, dangling something in her face; the detonator of the bomb.

"You didn't know," she murmured to herself, heading absently for the bathroom. "How could you have known?" She got in the shower and scrubbed herself til her skin was red and raw, putting her pajamas back on over wet skin. She looked at her face in the mirror over the sink and wondered if she'd ever feel clean again.

.

As he retched into the toilet again, he wondered dimly if he'd ever be ready to stop. Over the weeks and months he'd replaced eating with booze, sleep with drug-induced blackouts, and he'd never been smart enough to fear for his liver or his life before, but even he knew he couldn't keep this up forever. He'd begun to wonder which he dreaded more; death, or the accusing face of his little brother that confronted him whenever he tried to sleep sober.

"How could you let it happen?" he mumbled, wiping drool and vomit from the corner of his mouth with fumbling fingers. "How could you not have known?" He stood on unsteady feet and picked his slow and careful way toward the bed. He was awake at three am again, soaked in sweat and guilt and grief, and he killed the light, grateful for the sudden flood of darkness.

.

She knocked on the door with a hand that only trembled slightly. He answered it in jeans and no shirt, the bottle of vodka hooked between thumb and forefinger. She didn't say anything and neither did he, even when she deftly snagged the neck of the bottle out of his grasp and took a swig. It burned going down, but she didn't mind. "People see you coming up here, they're gonna say I'm losing my good taste," he muttered, the scorn halfhearted at best, and she smirked over her shoulder as she moved toward the couch. "I wasn't aware you had any to lose." She wandered the hotel suite, taking it all in, and he followed in her steps faithful as a puppy. When she got to the bed she put the bottle down on the nightstand and grabbed his hand, falling down among the pillows, pulling him down with her.

.

He got up right away afterward, kicking free of the sheets and hopping to his feet, not too surprised when she followed him. He went out to the balcony and leaned his arms on the railing while she stayed back near the door. Finally he turned around to face her, arms spread wide on the railing, his chin up but his face empty of bravado. She came closer, not close enough to touch, but almost. She wasn't clingy; he liked that. "How long are you going to stay here?" she asked, and he shrugged. "So," she went on, then stopped. A sudden flash of vulnerability crossed her face, and he couldn't decide if it repulsed or fascinated him. Then she went on, "So if I come back tomorrow..." He shrugged again. "No one's gonna stop you. No one's kicking you out now either," he added before he thought about it, and he was definitely repulsed by the fact that that had just come out of his mouth. He brushed curtly by her and went back into the room; but he paused to hold the door open for her with a hand tight on the knob.

.

On opposite sides of the huge hotel bed, a gulf between them wide enough for another person, they slept the whole night through for the first time since graduation.


End file.
